Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
A couple of years back, in an attempt to increase the versatility of my work, I set myself a challenge of penning poetry, as an aside to my daily blog. Deliberately quilled in an enigmatic, cryptic and pretentious style, these sonnets provoked the reader into their own challenge of unravelling the meaning of the locutions.... Continue Reading →
Following the recent emptying of garbage bins by refuse collectors, the wheelie bin cleaning guy is currently treating our cul-de-sac's rubbish receptacles to a monthly spruce up. A £3 jet clean removing the cylinders interior and exterior detritus, providing a sparkling facade, along a pleasant fragrance courtesy of sanitising spray. I'm unclear what cologne this chap... Continue Reading →
Yesterday in Fit For A Princess I wrote of a moored ex-ferry that in the 1980's was revamped into a floating nightclub on the Gateshead side of the River Tyne. It's location close to where the Sage arena now sits. Also located only a stones throw from where the Sage resides stood the now demolished Hawks Road... Continue Reading →
Around eighteen months ago I dabbled at extending my literary boundaries by trying my hand at writing poetry. All very pompous and tongue in cheek stuff, delivered in an olde worlde style, some of which can be found on my website writesaidfred.org under the menu title of 'Pretentious Prose'. https://strachan.blog/2017/06/24/pretentious-prose/ These pieces of work were... Continue Reading →
Tomorrow sees the 100th anniversary of the end of the Great War (WWI). To mark this occasion today I've decided to take a break from the status quo and write a poem. A piece of prose addressing a fallen soldier from that conflict, referencing the irony of this centenary celebration's close proximity to seemingly fraught... Continue Reading →
Thursday 17th May - I'm sat writing this monologue at the salon of my mum's hairdresser. My attendance here that of dutiful son patiently awaiting to drive his mater home post-haircut. Despite me being firmly entrenched in middle-age, mum feel moved to promise me a bag of M&S Peppa Pig candies if I'm a good... Continue Reading →
Departed Loiner’s final glass vessel; merlot bereft In smithereens; akin to spirits of those left behind Fragmented for regeneration; successor yet untold Like Loiner, vessel existentially intact two months prior Their chance meeting short, though physically & spiritually fruitful Distressingly, House of York affiliate’s hindmost drop of fermented grape Empty merlot vessel bereft... Continue Reading →
Triggers abound; blindsiding brood Culprits melancholic refrain, aroma, vino, cuisine Messages present on device; though hearken avoided Sobbing avoidance key for offspring of taken Tears for departed patriarch not an option Resistance to avoid exhibiting fragility his lad’s focus. Triggers ad infinitum; their sporadic existence surety Though no surety of coping strategy to employ Has... Continue Reading →
Comfort zone, erstwhile sanctuary of clan chief Former chamber of serenity, grape and musical refrain Empty leather seat beckons product of god’s own county to no avail Empty brood hearts beckon man of god’s own county to no avail Sinatra in solitude, Darrin in desolation his clans hereafter. Yorkshireman’s invite to his sanctuary has... Continue Reading →